


Starbucks in the City (and Soap Operas in the Park)

by phoenixyfriend



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Central Park, F/M, New York City, Post-Canon, Soap Opera, Starbucks, Telenovelas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 14:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12014337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixyfriend/pseuds/phoenixyfriend
Summary: In which Lance and Allura, while the latter is on break from dealing with the United Nations after revealing Voltron and aliens to Earth, go for a drink and a walk in New York City.





	Starbucks in the City (and Soap Operas in the Park)

**Author's Note:**

> I headcanon Voltron to take place circa 2073, which is why some things aren't necessarily what you expect. More at the bottom.
> 
> This fic was inspired by this piece of fanart: http://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/163997105030/  
> (You can tell that this was just inspired by it, not actually meant to go along with it, because I deviated so wildly from the image.)

“Yeah, with soy milk,” Lance said, smiling apologetically to the barista. He knew that any deviation from the ‘standard’ recipe was a bit of added difficulty and complication, but, “She’s lactose intolerant, so…”

“No problem,” the barista said, not seeming particularly interested in Lance’s excuses, which was reasonable. He probably had people trying to explain away their need for whatever accommodations all the time. Still, Lance had heard enough stories about annoyed workers using whole milk anyway when they thought it was just a diet or fad thing that he felt like it was a decent precaution anyway. “That’ll be $27.22.”

Lance dug out his credit card—a credit card! He’d been fighting an alien war for three years, but it was only now that he was getting a credit card, and something about it still made him feel giddy and _adult_ inside in the same way that all his belated changes to a human adulthood did—and passed it over. A few seconds later, he had it back, and then turned to head for the pick-up area at the end of the counter.

A hand gripped his wrist, and Lance slowed down, turning to send back a smile as thin fingers entwined with his own.

“Soy?” Allura asked.

“Remember how you always got stomach aches after Hunk made milkshakes from Kaltenecker’s milk?” Lance asked, stopping and pulling Allura close. “If it’s the lactose, then the soy shouldn’t bother your stomach as much.”

“Ah…” Allura said, frowning down at the counter. “Is this a common problem?”

“Depends on the race, actually. White people have the highest levels of lactose tolerance, since it developed in Europe so people could drink milk to get the Vitamin D that they could no longer rely on the sun for,” Lance said.

“Alteans never had such a need,” Allura admitted.

“Neither did most humans,” Lance joked. He reached up and adjusted Allura’s beanie a little more snugly over her ears. “Tell me if you start overheating?”

“I’m sturdier than you are, Lance,” Allura huffed. Lance tried to hide his amused smile as he reached up and lightly brushed a thumb over where her markings would have been, had she not covered them with foundation.

“You’re adorable.”

“Stop,” she ordered, though there wasn’t any true weight to it. She kicked behind and to the side, lightly whapping his ass with the side of her foot. “You, my dear paladin, are terrible.”

“I have on good authority,” Lance responded, “That you think otherwise.”

Allura eyed his grin with fake doubt for a moment. “And whose authority would that be?”

“Well, your own, from like fifteen minutes ago,” Lance said, grinning when she snorted. “And Blue’s.”

“Ah.”

“The lions don’t lie.”

Allura snorted, and then leaned down to press a kiss to his temple. “Terrible.”

“You love me.”

“Two Grande Unicorn Frappucinos.”

Lance turned away from Allura to see that the barista had finished both of their drinks.

“This one’s the soy,” the man said, tapping at the lid of one of the drinks. Lance could just barely make out the word written on the cup, but figured it was probably policy to tell customers which drink was which. “And…”

“Thank you!” Allura said, reaching out and taking the soy one, while Lance took the other.

“Something wrong?” Lance asked, once he noticed that the barista had a strange look on his face.

“Nothing, just…” the man looked nervously at Allura, and then back at Lance. Then he looked back at Allura, who had by this point moved to take a sip of her drink. “Is it… _normal_ for your pupils to glow?”

Allura paused in her sipping, and shared a glance with Lance. She quirked a smile and reached up to pull away the beanie for a moment, winking at the barista. He gaped as she pulled the beanie back down over her ear and said, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lance watched as she headed for the door, then turned and shot the barista a grin and some finger guns. “Keep it on the down-low, will ya?”

He rushed out after Allura and spun her around as he slung an arm around her shoulders, making her laugh as they stumbled back into something approaching a straight line.

“Lance!” She lightly punched his ribs. “You almost made me drop my drink!”

“Nah, you had it,” he dismissed. “Aaaaand? How is it?”

“It is… acceptable,” she declared, nose in the air. She laughed again when he pouted, and admitted, “It’s very good. I like it very much.”

“Great!” Lance said. “They only have it, like, once a year, so we’re lucky.”

“Yes, well,” Allura grumbled, mood darkening immediately. “We may end up staying much longer.”

“Politicians?” Lance guessed.

Allura groaned, pressing her face into his shoulder as they walked down the street. He did his best to steer her away from easily tripped-over cracks and other pedestrians. He even patted her shoulder comfortingly with the hand that wasn’t holding a drink.

“That bad?”

“They are at least mostly agreeing now that cooperating with Voltron is in their best interests,” Allura said. “Quite frankly, Earth has no political capital or economic strength on an intergalactic field. With your military being as weak as it is compared to even the poorest of interstellar armies, Voltron is your only chance at not getting taken advantage of by every species coming your way.”

“And with the war over and our names and species in every magazine and newspaper in the former Galra Empire…” Lance trailed off.

“There will be plenty taking interest now,” Allura groused. “So they know. They _know_ they need to work with Voltron, especially after they came to the conclusion that introducing the team and Kolivan and myself to your world was a good idea—”

“I still think your speech was the best one, by the way. Kolivan’s was super stilted, and Shiro went all anime protagonist speech again.”

“Thank you—and they _know_ that the world knows about aliens now, they _know_ that your people will soon be looking for opportunities to spread economic branches outwards to other systems, and yet they _still_ choose to argue over the most paltry details instead of anything truly important!”

Lance thought that over for a moment. “They still haven’t agreed on what Earth’s official name to the intergalactic community is going to be, have they?”

“No!” Allura shouted, and then took a quicker step forward, looping around to press her face into his chest as they came to an awkward stop in the middle of the street. More calmly, she huffed out a breath and repeated herself. “No, they haven’t.”

Lance awkwardly took her by the elbows and steered both of them over to a nearby wall and out of the way of passersby. “I mean… at least they’re taking you seriously?”

“It most certainly doesn’t feel like it.”

“There’s a lot of arguing countries and cultures and languages on this planet,” Lance reminded her. “Everyone’s got different names for it, and everyone’s got an opinion. Are there any particularly popular choices?”

“Most of the Americas and large portions of… Europe? Yes, Europe, appear to be in favor of either _Terra_ or _Gaia_. Something about dead languages?”

“Latin and Ancient Greek had some pretty significant effects on European languages, and that spread to the Americas with colonialism, so I’m not surprised,” Lance mused, humming. “Let me guess, China and India are arguing that with their population levels, their names for the planet should be higher on the list?”

“Along with speakers of… Arabic, I think?” Allura sighed. “I was surprised that the language you paladins speak hasn’t had much support.”

“I think whoever’s representing English-speaking countries probably just agrees that calling us ‘Terrans’ or ‘Gaeans’ or something is cooler and less dorky than ‘Earthlings,’” Lance said, making a face. “That just brings to mind bad sci-fi, yuck.”

“If you say so,” Allura sighed. “There are just… so many more important things to focus on than the _name_ of the planet. There are laws and trade regulations and intergalactic rules to discuss and introduce and they’re just… arguing over something inconsequential!”

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Lance said, bringing his hands up to cup Allura’s face. “Breathe?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re frustrated,” Lance said. “I get it. But… this means a lot, and to a lot of people. How we present ourselves to the intergalactic community is going to mean a _lot_ , Princess. It’s a matter of cultural pride to most of the people arguing. They want to be represented, and part of that is being acknowledged in this way. You’re right that, in the long term, it’s a good idea to go through the interplanetary stuff as soon as possible, but which name gets chosen is probably going to have _huge_ ramifications on the political landscape here on Earth. International politics matters a lot to us, even if it seems pretty small and unimportant to someone used to thinking about multiple galaxies like you.”

She made an annoyed noise and pressed her face even closer to his neck.

“Just… keep that in mind? You’re talking to the United Nations, Princess, and _you_ have the most bargaining power there. Remind them what the stakes are, but remember that it means a lot to China’s rep that Mandarin is acknowledged, and to India’s that Hindi is considered, and so on. Everyone wants to feel like they have a say. Everyone wants to be considered, you know? Like, there were a few inhabited planets in your system, right? Like…” Lance cast about for a comparison. “Did the Alteans and Galra and the others argue over what the system would be called by outsiders?”

“Well, yes,” Allura admitted. “But coming to a conclusion regarding that name did not, as I recall, take this long.”

“It’s only been a week or two. Besides,” Lance teased, pulling back and grinning down at Allura. “Were you actually there when your system was being named?”

“…no.”

“There you go!” Lance said cheerily. He darted forward to press a kiss to the tip of Allura’s nose, and leaned back away with a smile. “Perspective!”

“You’re a tease,” Allura told him. “If you’re going to kiss me, do it properly.”

Lance pressed his lips into a thin line in a vain attempt to hide his smile, and then leaned in to press said lips to Allura’s. The kiss mostly chaste, little more than a dry meeting of skin and a hint of something wet and plush beyond, but Allura was smiling too when Lance pulled away.

“Better?”

“Much,” she said. She then lifted her drink up and took a long sip, sending Lance a wink.

“The _gall_ ,” he gasped, slapping a hand to his chest and staggering back a step. “And you called _me_ a tease!”

She burst into laughter, and while it was short-lived, Lance could tell that it was genuine.

On impulse, he reached forward and took her hand, lifting it up and over her head to spin her in place. She went along with it, quirking an eyebrow as she came back around to facing him again, once more sipping from her drink.

“Wanna go to the park?” Lance asked.

“The park?”

“It’s a _lovely_ May day, and we’re in New York City,” Lance said. “Sure, we’re only here because of the UN headquarters, but it’s New York City! We already hit up an overpriced coffee chain, but _let’s be tourists._ ”

Allura smiled as Lance gripped her hands and gave her puppy dog eyes, wide and imploring. “You’re very excited to experience this city.”

“It’s _New York_. Damn straight I’m excited,” Lance said. “It was on my list of top cities to visit. There’s so much to do here, Allura, and we’ve only barely hit some of it up!”

“What have you been doing when I speak with the politicians?” Allura asked. “I’d have thought you were exploring then?”

“Honestly?” Lance gave her a weak smile. “I was so fucking exhausted last week, Allura. I spent most of that free day sleeping. And lying around. Most of us did, really.”

Allura looked at him for a long moment, and then looped her arm through his, moving to stand beside him. “Then to the park it is. I expect you to tell me everything you know of this city and its landmarks.”

“Or…” Lance said, setting off at a brisk walk. “We could find a tour bus after we get bored of the park. I’ve seen a few running around; can’t be too hard to just Google the company reviews and find the best-rated one.”

“A tour bus?” Allura asked. “That sounds… interesting.”

“It would mean a qualified guide that knows _way_ more about the city than I do,” Lance reminded her. “And we can always come back to see things again if we want to. It’s not like we’re hurting for money, since Iverson convinced the Garrison to do damage control by giving us backpay with bonuses for being child soldiers and stuff. And the UN’s talking about compensation, too, last I heard.”

“That is… acceptable,” Allura said, and then smiled. “Sounds rather fun, actually.”

“But first!” Lance declared, whipping out his phone and wrapping his other arm around Allura’s shoulders, stepping off to the side of the street again. “A selfie!”

“Lance.”

“C’mon, it’s your first Starbucks drink! And let’s face it, I have been _so_ deprived of social media the last few years. And now I have fans! Real ones! We should keep them happy!”

“It would show people what we look like when attempting to stay low-key,” Allura reminded him.

“…do we actually care about that?” Lance questioned. “Seriously, it’s a city of eight million people. If movie stars can do it, then so can we.”

Allura sighed and shook her head, but posed for the camera anyway, lips once again wrapped around the straw. Lance awkwardly angled his own drink around so he could do the same without removing his arm from around Allura, and took a few pictures. Choosing the perfect one took only moments, and he looked over at Allura before posting. “Now or later?”

“…now. I want to see if anyone other than the server _does_ recognize us.”

“You know, we should totally go back later and give that barista a selfie,” Lance mused. “He was pretty perceptive.”

“Alright,” Allura said, watching as Lance finished tagging and posting the photo. “So?”

“To the park! And then a tour bus!”

“Very well, then.” Allura nodded. “The park, and then a tour bus.”

“Hell yeah,” Lance cheered, though quietly. “Central Park, here we come!”

o.o.o.o.o

Allura made a face at the park.

“Oh boy,” Lance said. “What’s that face?”

“What face?” Allura asked. “I’m not making a face.”

“Yeah, you are. It’s your ‘the humans have done something I don’t like, but I don’t want to insult the paladins by mentioning it’ face,” Lance told her.

“That’s a very eloquent meaning for a face to have,” Allura said.

“It’s a talented face,” Lance agreed.

“…It’s not quite what I expected,” Allura finally admitted. “It feels strange, for a wide expanse of tamed nature to be surrounded so extensively by urbanity, as opposed to the opposite. Altea may have had her mech rings, but we left as much of our natural world alone as we could.”

“You sure?” Lance asked. “I’m serious, are you sure? A lot of our best-preserved national and state parks, the ones that are hundreds of thousands, or even millions of acres, are only like that because we went back and fixed things after ruining them in the first place. Maybe Altea did the same?”

“I would have to ask Coran,” Allura admitted. “But I doubt it. We had a far smaller population than Earth, before we expanded into orbit, and even then we never went past two or three billion.”

“And Earth is edging in towards ten right now…” Lance considered. He shrugged. “Well, whatever. You wanna find a bench and people watch for a bit? Just walk around, maybe? I know there’s a lot of open, grassy meadows here, and really big rocks, and we can probably just sit find one and sit down for a bit.”

“And get recognized,” Allura pointed out.

“I’m always willing to sign autographs for my adoring fans,” Lance said, pasting a smarmy grin on his face that pulled a snort from Allura.

“I’m aware,” she said.

“Aw, c’mon,” Lance said, squeezing her shoulders with his free arm. “We’re celebs!”

“I know, Lance,” Allura laughed.

“Babe,” Lance said, coming closer, pressing their foreheads together and lacing the fingers of his free hand through Allura’s. “We’re stars.”

“Don’t.”

“We even _came from deep space_ ,” Lance insisted, leaning back with a wide grin as Allura pulled away to try and hide her snort.

“Lance…”

“Babe,” Lance said again. “Are you from outer space?”

“By the ancients…”

“Because your body is out of this world!”

“You’ve used that one before! Many times!” Allura protested.

“Yeah?” Lance bumped his hip into hers, and then started off down the path, walking backwards. “I’d like to see you do better.”

Allura bit her lip, thinking for a moment, and then looked up at him with determination sparking through her expression. “Do you have a map? Because I’m getting lost in your eyes.”

“…even without gravity in space, I still managed to fall for you.”

“If I had a star for every time you brightened my day, I'd have a galaxy in my hand,” Allura shot back, leaning back in with a smug grin.

“I was blinded by your beauty... I'm going to need your name and number for insurance purposes.”

“Four plus four equals eight, but you plus me equals fate.”

“Can I take your picture to prove to all my friends that angels do exist?” Lance asked, actually pulling out his phone and wiggling it.

“I didn't see any stars in the sky last night,” Allura drawled, “Because the most heavenly body was standing right next to me.”

Lance paused for a moment, and then ducked forward to bury his face in Allura’s neck, hiding his flaming blush in her cloud of hair.

“You’re too cute,” he whined.

“Does this mean I win?”

“No,” Lance protested, pulling away and scrambling mentally to find the right line. “Uh…”

“I’m waiting.”

“Do you know what I did last night? I looked up at the stars, and matched each one with a reason why I love you,” Lance blurted out. Allura stared at him, wide-eyed, and he steamrolled ahead, because in for a penny, in for a pound, right?

He took a step forward, and she took one back. “Excuse me, I think you have something in your eye. Oh wait, it's just a sparkle.”

Allura’s blush deepened.

“You must be a hell of a thief because you stole my heart from across the room,” he continued. “Are you lost ma'am? Because heaven is a long way from here. I'm fighting the urge to make you the happiest woman on earth tonight. You're kinda, sorta, basically, pretty much always on my mind. Your lips look so lonely.... Would they like to meet mine? You’re so hot you—mmph!”

Aaaaaaand Allura was kissing him.

He melted into it, of course. Lance was a good kisser, and nowhere near as inexperienced when he left Earth as people tended to assume, but he was also kind of a romantic. A shut-up kiss from his girlfriend while he was barraging her with the cheesiest pick-up lines he could think of? _Cute_. Also, very romantic. And in the middle of Central Park?

Wow, yeah, he was done for.

Allura pulled away before they started going too far for a public setting, and then rested her forehead against his. “I have no idea why I still find those so appealing.”

“Because you have the same terrible taste in pick-up lines as I do?”

“You’re admitting they’re terrible?” Allura asked.

“You’re admitting yours are too?” Lance challenged.

Allura huffed out a laugh and hugged him. “Terrible.”

“You keep saying that,” Lance pointed out. “I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”

“Of course it does,” Allura said. “And as much as I would like to keep standing here in embrace… I have finished my drink, and should like to dispose of the cup… and sit down.”

“We can do that,” Lance confirmed. When he turned to head for the nearest visible trashcan, though, he slid his hand down Allura’s arm until he could lace their fingers together, and if the smile they shared was somehow still a little shy… well, nobody was going to judge them for it.

o.o.o.o.o

“That sounds _ridiculous_ ,” Allura said.

“It was a real plot twist, though!” Lance insisted.

“It’s highly unrealistic!” Allura protested. “Human lives are so short. When did this woman even have time for all of these children?”

“Well, first of all, human pregnancies are a lot shorter than Altean ones, last I checked,” Lance said, leaning back on his elbows in the grass. He looked up at the sky. “And second of all, you’d be _really_ surprised by how many children a single person can give birth to, especially when there’s twins or triplets happening.”

“And how large are most human families?” Allura asked.

“I’d say most people aim for two or three kids, if they go for the whole ‘family planning’ thing,” Lance said. “The actual average varies every few years, but we’re trying to keep it down due to the whole overpopulation thing. Don’t want to overtax the planet until we make it inhospitable to even ourselves, right?”

“I suppose,” Allura said. “But some people have many more?”

“Or none at all, or only one, or they just get dogs or something,” Lance said. “My family’s on the bigger side, sure, but it varies a _lot_.”

Allura rolled her eyes. “I still think that so-called ‘plot twist’ is ridiculous.”

“It’s a telenovela, Princess. Soap operas,” Lance said. “Ridiculous is the name of the game. Everything’s just… faked deaths and lying about pregnancies and secret evil twins and long-lost relatives and the fiancé that you thought was lost at sea showing up halfway through your wedding just to shout ‘I object!’ while still covered in sea water for some reason.”

Allura stared at him. “ _Why?”_

“Because it’s fun to watch!” Lance chirped, rolling to his feet. “I mean, did Altea not have soap operas?”

Allura shook her head, eyes wide.

“Aw man, it’s just…” Lance shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “It’s so over-acted, all the time, and ridiculous plot twists, and actors showing up and then leaving a few episodes later for no reason, and _so many plot holes_ and retcons and… they’re so much _fun_ , Princesa!”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said, leaning back and locking her elbows to stay up.

“I could act one out,” Lance offered. “Improvise.”

“That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“So did most of the last few years of our lives,” Lance pointed out. He bounced from one foot to the other, leaning forward and linking his hands behind his back. “C’mon, please?”

Allura rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

So Lance did it.

He’d always been more of a performing arts and social sciences kid than anything as a kid. As much as he’d loved space and as hard as he’d studied his physical sciences to get into the Garrison, things like theater and history and music and politics and dance… they’d just been so much _easier_. And as far as theater went, he’d been pretty good at improv.

And so, improvise he did.

Lance pulled out every stereotypical name he could from his memory, every over-acted, hammy turn of phrase and expression, changed the pitch of his voice and the position of his body every time he switched to a new character he’d just made up. He planned out a plot as he went along, thinking ahead as best he could while in the middle of forcing out tears and choking out anguished declarations.

“—Maria, but you cannot marry him!”

“Jorge, you dare to tell me whom I can or cannot marry?”

“You may love Miguel, but he is the son of your father’s enemy! Should either of your fathers find out, you would be shot dead in the streets!”

“So be it! I love him and—”

Lance kept going, only belatedly realizing he’d accidentally slipped into a star-crossed lovers plot. Granted, he already knew Shakespeare was his fallback, but Romeo and Juliet? Really, brain? _Again?_

He noticed, from the corner of his eye, that people had gathered around and started filming his impromptu performance. Tourists, he figured, but they seemed to enjoy it, so he projected as much as he could and whirled to face them with a bow before continuing. Allura would forgive him, probably.

“Enough!”

Or maybe not.

Lance gulped and turned to face Allura, who looked… not her usual kind of angry? She actually looked kind of imperiously snooty, the immature version she only pulled out when in courts that had way more inter-noble bullshit going on than she felt like putting up with.

“You may call yourself a man of honor, Miguel, but you’ve done nothing to prove it!”

What? Was Allura jumping—right, no, he could do this. Fuck it, he’d throw his plot through the window, just needed a name and—

“Señorita Isabela,” Lance spat, like the name was poison. “How kind of you to come.”

“You should have expected me.”

“A face like yours? I’ve expected many better in my time.”

Allura wasn’t bad at this. She slipped up a few times, sure, but overall she played along with whatever bullshit line Lance pulled out of his ass and they volleyed the conversation back and forth, even switching to new or old characters a few times. They got into each other’s faces towards the end, almost screaming their lines, playing out an argument between what Lance _thought_ was the heiress to a pharmaceutical company and the displaced son of a destitute film star. Or maybe a young duchess and a bartender? Lance had no idea what was going on, but it was fun.

Allura turned on her heel and stalked away to where she’d been sitting earlier. She stooped down, stood up, and tossed him a stick. It was, in fact, a rather long stick, thin but sturdy, and Lance fumbled the catch a little. He looked down at it, and then back at her.

“Face me in a battle of blades,” she declared.

 _What the fuck, Allura,_ Lance thought, trying to keep the grin off of his face. Okay, so Allura had decided that improv looked like fun. He could work with that.

“A battle that weighs heavily in your favor,” Lance said, trying to let derision drip from every word. “Why not a contest of marksmanship? There should be a few flintlocks lying around this dusty old place…”

Lance had no idea what _century_ they were even pretending to be in anymore, but sure, why not.

“Unlikely,” Allura said, and then rushed him.

In his defense, Lance was well aware of how bad he was with a sword. He was a long-range fighter for a reason. He’d made do with a staff before, and had actually done passably well with a spear, but when it came down to it, mid-range was where Lance did the worst.

In Allura’s defense, she did go easy enough on him for them to make a show of it. She’d clearly realized that the point by now was to entertain whoever was watching, and was making as many flourishes and doing as many unnecessary spins as she could manage.

They kept the ‘sword’ fight up for almost five minutes before a familiar voice cut through to them.

“What are you doing?”

They both froze, because there was ‘don’t break the improv scene no matter what’ and then there was ‘Shiro’s here and we’re goofing off in public.’

“Heeeeeeeeeeey, boss man,” Lance said slowly, lowering his branch and slowly turning towards him. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Lance, Allura,” Shiro nodded at both of them. “I came because a video someone took of you two ended up on the news.”

Lance looked over at Allura and realized that, at some point, her hat had shifted enough to reveal one ear. He gestured at his own ear, and after a moment, Allura’s eyes widened as she realized the issue. She reached up to readjust the beanie, and Lance turned back to Shiro.

“Yeah?” He hazarded, not sure what else to say.

“Yeah,” Shiro confirmed flatly. “In fact, it was a video taken from a distance of what _appeared_ to be a very heated argument between a paladin of Voltron and the Princess of Altea.”

“We were in no way actually angry at each other,” Allura said.

“So… what is this?” Shiro asked.

“Telenovela in the Park?” Lance offered. “Like Shakespeare in the Park, but we’re doing soap operas and have no professional training in theater, just fucking around with improv.”

Shiro slowly brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Really.”

“Really,” Lance agreed.

“It was very fun,” Allura said. “I’d enjoy doing it again sometime.”

Lance grinned. “The Princess approves, ergo it’s cool.”

“I don’t suppose anyone got a longer video that actually has the context of you improvising a soap opera as opposed to actually arguing,” Shiro said.

“Oh, I did!” One of the tourists yelled.

“Me too!”

“And me!”

Shiro shot the crowed a slightly unnerved look, and then turned back to Lance and Allura. “I’m going to pretend this didn’t happen unless there’s more PR fallout.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Lance said.

“That’s very appreciated, Shiro.” Allura nodded.

He gave them another long look and then shook his head. “I’m getting too old for this.”

“You’re twenty-eight,” Lance deadpanned.

“And yet I feel like I’m eighty,” Shiro muttered. “I’ll see you later. Try to stay out of trouble.”

“You’re not my commander, Shiro,” Allura said.

“Well, you are mine, so I’ll do my best,” Lance promised.

They waited a few seconds, watching him leave, and then a finger tapped on Lance’s shoulder. It was a young Asian girl, maybe twelve years old, nervously shifting from foot to foot. Lance gave her a smile, and she tentatively smiled back.

“Um… you’re Lance Álvarez, right? The Blue Paladin?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Lance said, nodding.

“And…” the girl looked passed him. “Princess Allura?”

“Indeed,” Allura said.

The girl thrust out a pen and what looked like a sketchbook. Face red, she asked, “Can I get your autographs?!”

Lance grinned widely, dropping the stick that he had, for some reason, not yet put down. “Sure! Want a selfie, too?”

(It took Lance and Allura forty-five minutes to get to everyone in the crowd before they managed to beg off and leave.)

o.o.o.o.o

“Oh my god,” Lance laughed.

“Shut up.”

“You really liked it that much?” Lance asked. “Really?”

“Yes,” Allura sniffed, crossing her arms and looking away.

“What, no,” Lance skidded a little as he moved to her other side to enter her field of vision again. “I’m not trying to poke fun, I promise. Babe? C’mon, look at me, please?”

Allura stopped walking and faced him. Lance took the opportunity to pull her to the edge of the sidewalk again.

( _“It doesn’t matter how weird what you’re doing is, nobody’s going to care so long as you aren’t in the way,_ ” the concierge at the hotel had said, just one piece of advice among many that Lance had gotten about the city. “ _But if you stop in the middle of the street, even for something as normal as a phone call, everyone around you is going to hate you_.”)

(Lance, once accustomed to crowded Garrison hallways with similar rules, had adjusted quickly. Allura? Not so much.)

“We can get you another Unicorn Frapp if you want,” Lance said, reaching down to lace his fingers with hers on both hands. He took a step closer. “And I promise I’m not teasing.”

Allura met his eyes, lips pursed into a thin line, and then huffed and gave him a quick kiss. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I wish I could say I knew what that word meant,” Lance said. “I know I’ve heard it before, but…”

“You’re terrible,” Allura said flatly.

“You keep using that word,” Lance said, and then squealed as Allura poked him in the ribs. “Hey, no tickling.”

“Then let’s move along,” Allura said, stepping away and off down the street again, pulling him along by the hand she hadn’t unlaced from his. “You remember where the shop was?”

“The Starbucks we went to?” Lance asked, adjusting his grip to something more comfortable. “Yeah, why?”

“You did suggest we return to offer the barista an opportunity to take a picture with us,” Allura reminded him.

“That I did,” Lance agreed, swinging their joined hands back and forth. “And then after we get more drinks—”

“And visit a restroom,” Allura said.

“—and visit a restroom,” Lance agreed, because she wasn’t the only one who needed one right now, “You wanna do the tour bus?”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“Great!” Lance said.

“I suppose you were our strategist for a reason,” Allura said, smirking at him.

“You flatter me.”

(Lance decided that while he wouldn’t necessarily ever live there, he definitely liked visiting New York. It was fun.)

(Allura, after some prodding, admitted that she very much agreed.)

**Author's Note:**

> The Starbucks prices are based on current prices, an assumption that inflation would approximately double them in the next fifty-six years, and that NYC's total sales tax would remain at around 8.875% (the current level). Also, the Unicorn Frapp was a limited-time offer, but I imagine that it might come back in the future as an annual thing. And in case anyone was wondering, yes, I've lived in New York. Queens as a kid, Manhattan for college, and other, non-NYC places like Long Island and Colorado in between.
> 
> For more of my extensive thoughts on economics and politics on Earth in post-canon Voltron, see this post: http://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/164234150810/voltron-and-earth-entering-the-intergalactic
> 
> Once again, this fic was inspired by this piece of fanart: http://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/163997105030/  
> (You can tell that this was just inspired by it, not actually meant to go along with it, because I deviated so wildly from the image.)
> 
> I also ended up researching telenovelas for this? Turns out the main difference between American soaps and Latin ones is actually run time, rather than content; American soaps can last for season after season after season, while even the longest telenovelas max out around four season, and average at just one.
> 
> (This fic stalled out at about 3.5k words for _weeks_ and I only just now found the motivation to wrap it up.)
> 
> Visit me on tumblr at phoenixyfriend.


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